


Making Bonds

by DeconstructedIronhide (InsertCoolName)



Series: child of Earth (Triage) [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst, Background Slash, Carrier!Ironhide, Conjunx Endura, Family, Gen, M/M, Mech Preg, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Pregnancy issues, Psychic Bond, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:30:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertCoolName/pseuds/DeconstructedIronhide
Summary: Ironhide is carrying.Something iswrong.With Ratchet off the grid, it's up to Sarah to help the mecha that has quickly become a part of her family.





	Making Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> God, who'd've ever thought: me writing about pregnancy. _Giant alien robot_ pregnancy, at that. Good lord.
> 
> Not a lot to say for this. It's been in the works since before last Christmas, and it just kinda sat for a while. But I found it again while scouring my drive and decided it needed to be picked back up, so here it is! The name is probably going to change, but for now...
> 
> Hopefully I'll get part two written up and posted quickly. This hasn't been beta read, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. If you find any feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> Comment and kudos feed the beast.

“Something’s wrong with Ironhide.”

_“What?”_

Sarah’s hands are clenched around the phone as she casts a glance out the window, eyes wide. “Something’s wrong with Ironhide,” she says again, trying to keep her voice calm. “He’s doubled over and in pain and I don’t know what’s going on and–”

_“Baby slow down, you’re talking too fast and I can’t–”_

Sarah continues right over Will: “He’s clutching his abdomen, Will. He looks like he’s really hurt and he’s–” She looks out the back window again and almost chokes on her words “–I think he’s _crying_ , Will. Ironhide is _crying_.”

God, Sarah feels like she’s going to throw up. She quickly turns away, wrapping her free arm around her chest. “What do I do?” she demands. “What if something’s really wrong? What if–” oh god “–what if it’s the _sparkling_ , Will? What if something’s wrong with the sparkling?”

 _“Sarah, just–slow down,”_ Will says. Sarah falls silent with a distressed sigh. _“That’s right, just breathe,”_ he adds soothingly. _“It’ll be OK.”_

“I don’t–”

 _“It’ll be OK.”_ There’s a pause and some shuffling noises before Will continues. _“Give me a minute, I’m going to find Ratchet. He’ll–Sideswipe, where’s Ratchet?”_

_“He just left the compound not ten minutes ago.”_

Sarah’s heart drops.

 _“Bring him back in.”_ The voice in the background says something again - it sounds like _is something wrong?_ \- but Will snaps, _“_ Now _, Sideswipe.”_ Sarah’s grip tightens.

“What’s going on?”

_“Ratchet’s out with the Arcee team. Whoever thought it was a good idea to send the team’s only medic out on a milk run is a fucking idiot.”_

“What–milk run?”

_“Colonel Lennox, I can’t make contact with Ratchet.”_

_“Try again.”_ More low voices in the background. _“Try Arcee. Try Elita or Chromia.”_

_“Their comms are deactivated, too.”_

_“Why are they deactivated?”_

“Will.” By now Sarah’s struggling not to full on panic. “What’s going on? What do I do? I–”

 _“Keep trying!”_ Will calls out before answering, his voice turning softer despite his obvious concern. _“We’ll get Ratchet there, sweetheart. I’ll go out and find him if I need to.”_

“Will–”

_“Lennox.”_

_“I gotta go, sweetheart.”_

“What am I supposed to do?”

 _“Sit tight,”_ Will says. Sarah has a feeling he doesn’t know what else to tell her. _“Sit tight. Maybe talk to ‘Hide if you can. You went through this, too, remember? And I talked you through it. Maybe you can help him.”_

Sarah wants to argue. Her pregnancy had been normal, problem-free, and, looking back at it now, relatively easy. Not only is Ironhide an alien being who most definitely has a different biology than that of a human, but _something’s wrong_ , and Sarah doesn’t see how she can help by just talking. She shakes her head.

“I’ll–I’ll try,” she stammers. From the other side of the line, there’s a breathy laugh, a bit forced but soothing nonetheless.

 _“I know you can do it,”_ Will says quietly. _“You’ve got this, sweetheart.”_

_“Lennox!”_

_“I know, just give me–I gotta go, Sarah.”_

Sarah inhales sharply, nodding. “OK.”

 _“You’ve got this,”_ he repeats. Another shout of his name, and he curses. _“I love you. Give Belle a kiss for me. And tell Ironhide–”_

_Click. Brrrrrr…_

Sarah listens to the dial tone for a long few moments, eyes wide and fingers aching around the receiver. It takes the creak of the plastic close to her ear to get her moving. She sets the phone back in its wall dock, overly-careful and with shaking hands. She inhales deeply, trying to calm herself. It doesn’t really work.

She has no idea what to do.

 _Talk to Ironhide,_ her mind supplies, and she latches onto it. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, and she doesn’t know how it’ll help, but it’s a start.

She quickly checks on Annabelle before going out to the backyard. Thankfully she’s still asleep in her playpen, oblivious to the severity of the situation.

It’s a little worry off of Sarah’s shoulders.

_  
[o]

Ironhide’s a near perfect picture of serenity when Sarah approaches him: lying in the backyard with his back against the old oak, his helm tipped back and his optics closed… a large servo rests loosely over his abdomen, digits curled just enough to come off as protective. It’s quite _maternal_ , in Sarah’s mind, something she had probably done when she was pregnant with Annabelle. It throws her off a bit, especially since Ironhide had been writhing in agony only minutes before.

“…Ironhide?” Sarah’s voice is quiet, but somehow she manages to keep it mostly stable. Ironhide only hums in response. She crosses her arms. “I called Will. He–Ratchet’s–”

Ironhide activates an optic, leaning his helm forward enough to peer down at Sarah. “I couldn’t reach him, either,” he rumbles calmly. Sarah’s shoulders tense before dropping.

“Oh.”

“He’s alright,” Ironhide continues, deactivating his optic again. He doesn’t offer any other explanation, and Sarah doesn’t ask for one. She knows that their bond offers insight to things like that, although she won’t even pretend to understand how. She looks away, falling silent. She isn’t sure of what else she should say.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking in surprise, Sarah stares back up at Ironhide. “Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?” Ironhide just huffs in amusement.

“I’m fine,” he assures her. This time reactivating both his optics, he glances down at his servo. “We both are,” he amends.

“Are you sure?”

The mecha’s optics flit to Sarah, but he doesn’t answer. The servo on his abdomen twitches a little. Sarah looks away once more. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks instead, already knowing the answer. Out of the corner of her eye, Ironhide shifts a little.

“I think… I think I’ll be alright,” he says slowly. “The pain is gone. I don’t know what that was, but I think it’s over with for now.”

“Like contractions? Do you guys get those?”

“Yes, but they’re not supposed to be that... _sudden_. Not that powerful or sharp. I don’t think that was a contraction.” He gives a shrug. “Besides, it’s still much too early.”

The unasked question of _then what was it_ hangs in the air. Ironhide probably has as much of an idea as Sarah does.

Whatever it was, it definitely hadn’t been good.

“I–I’m going to go back inside,” Sarah finally says. She looks back towards the house, then up at Ironhide. “Annabelle’s going to wake up soon and she’ll be hungry. You sure you don’t need anything?”

Ironhide shakes his helm. “I’ll be fine,” he assures her, settling back against the tree. Chunks of bark fall to the ground at the abuse. “I just need to rest until Ratchet gets here.”

“Alright.” Sarah takes a couple steps back. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” she promises. “Just yell if you need anything, OK?”

At that, Ironhide chuckles, low and fond. It’s enough for Sarah to feel a little more relaxed. “Go take care of your little one, Sarah,” the mecha says gently. His servo moves a little, digit beginning to rub small circles onto his armor. “I’ll take care of mine.”

Still not entirely reassured but calmer than she had been, Sarah nods and heads for the house. She’s still worried beyond belief. She doesn’t know what she would do if something went _really_ wrong. But somehow she thinks it’ll be alright. If Ironhide’s remaining this calm about it, it _has_ to be alright.

Gaze flickering back to Ironhide, Sarah slides the screen door shut. After a moment of hesitation, she walks away, leaving the glass door open behind her, and goes to wake up Annabelle.

_  
[o]

Sarah checks on Ironhide half an hour later, then again half an hour after that. Nothing’s changed. If anything, Ironhide just seems tired, like he really does need rest - and amused with how concerned Sarah is, of course. The mecha smiles and chuckles each time she asks if he needs something, but ultimately shakes his head no and thanks her.

“There’s no need to fuss over me quite yet,” he’d huffed the last time she’s asked, trying to appear annoyed. It hadn’t really worked, so he’d smirked instead. “There’ll be plenty of time for that _after_ this mess is sorted out.”

There doesn’t seem to be anything Sarah can say to change his mind, so she’s demurred each time. She always tells him the same thing as she leaves, that she’ll check on him again later and that he if he does need anything she will do her best to help. By the third time she’s checked on him it’s starting to feel repetitive, but Sarah won’t let that lull her into security just yet.

“They found Ratchet,” Ironhide tells her the next time she goes out to check on him. It’s been two hours since Sarah’s frantic call to Will, and she hasn’t heard anything back yet, but Ironhide seems certain that the medic is on his way.

“I still can’t contact him,” he admits, watching as Annabelle pulls herself to her feet using a component on Ironhide’s leg, “but I can’t contact Will, either. Ratchet and the Arcee team must’ve been sent to a dead zone.” The mecha shifts a little, slow and gentle so he doesn’t dislodge Annabelle’s grip. “If Will had to bring them in he probably got caught in it, too. Nothing’s wrong,” he adds when Sarah gives him a worried expression. “I can still feel Ratchet; he’s fine. I can only assume everyone else is too.” His optics darken. “I’d know if something was wrong.”

“How would you know that?” Sarah can’t help but ask. She doesn’t expect a straight answer. Ironhide has never been very open about his bond with Ratchet. She wants all the reassurance she can get right now, though, even if it’s something vague and not entirely helpful.

Ironhide doesn’t answer for a bit, and Sarah doesn’t push. He actually seems to be considering his answer rather than brushing it off, much to her surprise. His helm is thoughtfully tilted to the side and his optics are narrowed in a concentration. He hums, long and low.

“He’s upset,” Ironhide finally says. “Annoyed, but not angry. Worried. A bit scared.” He huffs. “Will’s got him in a tizzy, judging by how fast things are moving.”

“Fast?”

“Ratchet’s emotions are pretty stable. They come and go with ease and normally he’s easy to read. Right now, however, they’re randomly in and out of focus.” He pauses. “Nothing’s wrong, though. If it was, Ratchet would be much angrier. Less of his concern would be directed at me and more of it towards the situation. He hasn’t deployed any of his weaponry - my left servo always gets this kind of tingly itch whenever he uses his saw. Was _really_ fraggin’ weird in the beginning,” he mutters.

Sarah frowns. “So it’s like some kind of telepathy? Your guys’ bond?”

Ironhide makes a face and shrugs.

“More like empathy, although that’s still a stretch. Too much magic and mysticism for me.” He shakes his head and waves a servo. “Something to do with sparks and connections and medical terminology that’s always gone right over my helm - not my area. Not _magic_ , either.”

“Huh.” Watching as Annabelle continues her descent along Ironhide’s leg, Sarah falls silent. Ironhide is being surprisingly open about answering her questions. Part of her wants to ask more, but she doesn’t want to push her curiosity too far.

Meanwhile, Annabelle seems pretty content to walk along using various components to keep herself stable, all the while babbling to herself. When she reaches Ironhide’s hip, she looks up at the mecha and gives him a gap-toothed grin. Ironhide returns it with his own weary smile. “Hello, little one,” he rumbles softly.

Annabelle trills back, and the mecha’s smile grows. He raises a servo - the one that has been resting on his abdomen since Sarah had come out to check on him, she notes - and gently brushes the soft blond curls out of the toddler’s face with a single digit. Annabelle giggles and reaches up to hold it on top of her head, only to fall to her butt with a squeak. She continues to hold onto him, though, and Ironhide chuckles affectionately.

 _He’ll make a great parent,_ Sarah thinks.

_Brrring brring… brrring brring…_

Both Sarah’s and Ironhide’s attentions snap towards the house. “I better go get that,” Sarah says. She stands from her spot near Ironhide’s foot and swoops in to pick up Annabelle. The toddler shrieks with laughter. “Come on, Belle,” she says, already walking back to the house. “Hopefully that’s your daddy calling with some good news.”

At the mention of her father, Annabelle starts babbling in excitement, most of it unintelligible with the occasional ‘ _Da!_ ’ thrown in there. Sarah can’t help but smile.

She’s pretty sure she can hear Ironhide’s soft laughter behind them as they walk away.

_  
[o]

The good news is Ironhide’s right; Ratchet is on his way, and so is a ‘bot called Sideswipe, for some reason. The mech had been rather adamant about going with. Ratchet had put up very little of a fight, much to Will’s surprise. Will, however, would not be coming with them.

 _“There’s too much for me to do here for them to let me go,”_ he’d said, stating it as the hard fact it is. _“But you’ve got Ratchet and Sideswipe coming out to help. You guys’ll be OK.”_

The bad news is it will take them about eleven hours to get there. The drive from the NEST base to Junction City is seven hundred miles long. Will had tried to get clearance for someone to fly them in with no success, but even then the flight would have taken hours. Either way, much too long for Sarah’s comfort.

By the time the sun is beginning to cast long shadows over the countryside, four hours have passed since Ironhide’s incident. Thankfully he hasn’t had another one, but he’s becoming more and more exhausted each time Sarah checks on him. When she checks on him around half past six the mech appears to be out cold, optics cycled off and engine idling at low power. Sarah knows it can’t be a good thing that he’s so tired, but she refuses to wake him up. He’d said he needed rest before Ratchet came.

Seven o’clock comes and goes. Annabelle is starting to drift off in her playpen, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. Sarah steps over to the playpen and looks down at her with a smile. “Time for bed?” she asks, leaning down to gently toy with her hair. Annabelle mumbles and turns away. It won’t be too long before she starts getting grouchy.

Still smiling, Sarah lifts Annabelle out of the playpen and bounces her a bit, placing a kiss on her nose. “Let’s get you changed,” she says lightly. She grabs Annabelle’s stuffed pony from the playpen before heading up the stairs. In no time she has Annabelle changed and dressed in her pajamas, and the little girl is asleep almost as soon as she’s laid down in her crib. Sarah hums a soothing tune as she tucks her in, setting the pony next to her and tucking the blankets in close. She shuts off the overhead light and switches the nightlight next to the crib on, giving the corner of the room a soft blue glow.

Everything all settled down and taken care of, Sarah leans with her side against the wall and her arms crossed. She continues to hum and just stares at Annabelle for a while, wondering where the time has been going. It seems like only yesterday Sarah had brought her home wrapped up in a pink and yellow hospital blanket. The nights she’d spent feeding and changing and simply holding her were a particular torture she can’t say she’d ever minded. Will hadn’t liked missing out on those - he’d missed out on a lot during his tour, back before the Autobots - but that’s the life of a military family. Letters and photographs and phone calls were what had kept them going.

Will had cried the first time he met Annabelle through a screen.

They’d all cried the first time he met her in person.

Sarah’s humming drops off, and she sighs. Military family life isn’t easy. Not having Will home isn’t easy. Knowing that there’s always the chance of him never coming home isn’t easy.

Sarah closes her eyes and sighs again. She stands like that for what feels like a long time.

Pushing herself off from the wall, she goes over to the window to draw the blinds. The spring days are growing longer, the departing sun still casting light through the beginning new growth of the giant oak in the backyard and creating patterns on the walls and floor of the room that dance and flicker in the brisk afternoon breeze. She pulls at the cord of the blinds, glancing down into the yard.

She almost yanks the blinds right off of the window frame.

Down at the base of the tree, Ironhide’s slumped over and visibly shaking. His arms are wrapped around himself tightly and his head is tucked in close to his body. Sarah can hear the sound of his engine running hard and loud, loud enough that she has no idea how she’s missed it until now.

Whirling around, Sarah steps out of the room, casting a quick glance over the sleeping Annabelle before gently closing the door behind her. It takes all of her willpower for her not to run down the stairs, but she gives in at the landing and bolts for the back door as fast as she can.

“ _Ironhide_!”

_  
[o]

The second attack is just as intense as the first. When it ends it leaves Ironhide tense and twitchy, yet even more drained than before. His temperature spikes. The pain in his abdomen lingers, although he says it’s more of a dull ache than the sharp pulses it had been before.

“It’s manageable,” he tells Sarah and Ratchet. Sarah had called the medic immediately after running out to see Ironhide. She has him on speaker phone now, holding the phone out with one hand and grasping her upper arm with the other. “I can deal with it.”

“What about the sparkling?” Sarah’s voice is subdued when she asks. Her panic is returning tenfold, as is the realization that there really is nothing she can do to help in this situation.

“It’s fine. I don’t think the pain’s affecting them at all, besides ticking them off at how much it bothers _me_.” Ironhide huffs. “I don’t think they can feel it.”

 _“How is their spark activity?”_ Ratchet inquires. His tone is strained yet professional, seemingly free of any underlying emotion. It doesn’t settle Sarah’s unease at all.

“...normal,” Ironhide says after a moment. “I think. Nothing _feels_ off, anyway.”

_“No fluctuations or irregularities?”_

“Normal,” Ironhide repeats. Ratchet grunts.

 _“We need to keep you both cool,”_ he says. _"_ _If you overheat again it could damage the protoform - and yourself. When was the last time you topped off on coolant?”_

“Beginning of the month. I have two rations left.”

_“That won’t be enough if you have another temperature spike.”_

“Will regular engine coolant work?” Sarah pipes in. “There might be some in the garage.”

_“Yes. It won’t be as effective as our medical grade, but it’s better than nothing. However, his temperature will still have to be monitored. It’s best if you don’t overtax your fans, Ironhide, especially in your fatigued state.”_

Ironhide frowns, but nods. Sarah can hear the whine of his systems turning down a notch.

 _“If worst comes to worst you might have to be manually cooled down,”_ Ratchet continues. _“Mrs. Lennox, is your home equipped with an outdoor watering system?”_

“We’ve got a spicket. I can set up the hose if I need to.”

_“Good. Keep the water cold, Mrs. Lennox.”_

“I don’t think–” Before Ironhide can get his complaint out Ratchet shushes him.

 _“Deal with it,”_ he snaps. _“A chill we can handle, but if you overheat it could be dangerous for both you_ and _the sparkling.”_

Ironhide’s frown deepens before falling away. He ducks his head to look down at his abdomen. “Understood.”

 _“Good.”_ Ratchet falls silent, as do Ironhide and Sarah. Sarah stares at the phone, unsure if she should hang up or not. For a few stressful moments, she tries to think of something to say. Something reassuring or helpful.

Nothing comes to mind.

“…I should go look for the coolant,” she finally says, breaking the somber silence. She motions towards the garage and adds, “I’ll be right back.” Ironhide nods and Sarah quickly scurries away, clutching the phone to her chest as she goes around to the front of the house to get to the garage door. Once inside, she lets the hand holding the phone drop to her side with a sigh. She flips the garage lights on.

Ironhide had started staying with the Lennoxes shortly after Mission City. Most of the time he only came when Will was on leave, but there had been times when he’d been sent out on his own. Curbside duty, he calls it. Being Will’s guardian means he is also Sarah and Annabelle’s, and he’d intended to do his job properly, so his visits had become a regular occurrence.

Ironhide was adamant about _not staying in the garage_ from day one. He’d instantly disliked the small, cramped area, and had simply taken to recharging in the driveway while in altmode. As time passed, he had become more comfortable with both the area and the Lennox girls - and them with him - and eventually began to spend his nights in the backyard. There was was little worry about him being discovered; the house is several miles away from the outskirts of Junction City, and their closest neighbors live almost a mile away with plenty of forested area between the properties. The house is big enough that he can’t be seen from the road unless someone actively tries to look around the back. So there was never a need for Ironhide to stay in the garage, making its only inhabitant Sarah’s old Impala, dusty from disuse and probably in need of an oil change but otherwise still in pristine condition.

Running a hand over the roof and leaving trails of polished black in her wake, she sighs again, and closes her eyes.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

_“Mrs. Lennox?”_

Sarah jumps and curses, fumbling with the phone to turn off the speaker and bring it up to her ear. She had forgotten that Ratchet was still on the line, figuring he would hang up once she was away from Ironhide. “Sorry, Ratchet,” she says, brushing her other hand against her jeans to rid it of dust. “Did you need something?”

 _“No, Mrs. Lennox,”_ the medic replies. He sounds a little hesitant. _“I… want to apologize. And to thank you.”_

Frowning in confusion, Sarah starts towards the shelves in the back. Full of various jugs and canisters, it’s the most likely spot the coolant would be in. “What for? There’s no need to apologize.”

_“I disagree. It should be me taking care of Ironhide, not you. You shouldn’t have to worry about such matters when you have your own to take care of.”_

Huh. Sarah doesn’t know what to say to that, although she doesn’t have the chance to anything anyway as Ratchet continues: _“That’s also why I want to thank you. Despite that, and despite the fact that you are ill prepared to take care of such things, your assistance is… greatly appreciated._

_“Thank you.”_

Sarah pauses in her search for the coolant. She doesn’t know Ratchet well - she’s only met him twice herself, and the rest she’s heard from Will and Ironhide. He’s a short-tempered mech, easy to piss off and with terrible bedside manner, if they are to be believed, yet both of them speak of him with fondness. Especially Ironhide. It’s still a little strange, though, receiving acknowledgment from the medic. His reasoning doesn’t make it any less odd.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Sarah continues to look. “I still don’t think you need to apologize,” she says slowly, pushing aside a can of paint. “None of this is your fault. I’m guessing there isn’t much that could’ve told you this was going to happen.

 _“No.”_ It only takes the one word to relay just how much the medic hates that fact. _“Not very much at all.”_

Finally finding the jug she’s looking for, Sarah pulls it down off the shelf and sets it on the trunk of the Impala to open it and check how full it is. “You don’t have to thank me either. You shouldn’t. I could be doing everything wrong.”

 _What if I am?_ she asks herself, peering despondently into the half-empty jug.

Almost in answer, Ratchet replies, _“You’re not.”_

Sarah has nothing to say to that. She twists the cap back onto the jug and carries it towards the door. “I found the coolant,” she says. Hopefully it isn’t too obvious that she’s trying to change the subject. “There’s only a little over half a gallon left. Will that be enough?”

_“It’ll do. Have Ironhide mix it with his leftover rations. He’ll need to consume them regularly but sparingly - no more than quarter of a gallon every hour. That should make it last until Sideswipe and I get there.”_

“Alright.” Sarah flicks the lights back off, leaving the Impala in the dark once more. “I’ll make sure he has it on time.

 _“Thank you, Mrs. Lennox,”_ Ratchet says again. Sarah’s fingers twitch around the phone.

“Sarah,” she corrects him, quickly and unsure. “I–I think we can drop the formalities now, considering the circumstances.”

 _“Sarah.”_ Ratchet gives a mechanical-sounding sigh. _“I only wish we could have dropped them under better ones.”_

_  
[o]

“I don’t know what you said to him, but whatever it was, I owe you one.” Ironhide tips his ration of coolant towards Sarah in mock solute. “All of that commotion he was causing inside my helm was making me bond sick,” he mutters before kicking the ration back like a shot. Sarah can’t help but wonder if Cybertronians even _have_ alcoholic beverages, or if it’s even possible for them to get drunk.

“No problem,” she says, brushing it off with a shrug. She watches as Ironhide crushes the now-empty container of coolant between two didgits, then asks “What do you mean by ‘bond sick’?”

“Physical ailments caused by a bondmate's distress. His was giving me a helmache.” Ironhide cringes. “Well. Giving me a _worse_ one. And it’s upsetting the sparkling.”

“The sparkling can feel him, too?”

“No, the bond is only between Ratchet and myself. The sparkling can feel the distress it’s causing _me_ through my EM field, however, and they are _not_ happy about it.”

“Oh.” Sarah can’t say she knows what an EM field is. After another pause, she asks, “The bond is a two-way street, right?” Ironhide nods. “Does that mean… does Ratchet–y’know, feel when you’re hurt?”

Ironhide shrugs.

“Maybe a little when it’s really bad, but, usually, no. He most likely didn’t even feel the attacks, unless he’d been actively focusing on them. He gets mostly emotion from me.” He glances down at Sarah, narrowing his optics. “I’m more likely to receive his pain than he is mine.”

“Why’s that?”

Ironhide’s optics grow even more narrow. Sarah’s pretty sure he’s going to end her line of questioning there; it’s delving into territory that he’s gently steered her away from before. But before she can change the subject, his expression shifts and he looks away, leaning his helm back against the tree.

“I don’t know much about spark bonds, but from what I understand there are two types of ‘empathies’ when it comes to them. Physical is just as it implies: hunger, exhaustion, pain - even those nervous feelings you get in your tanks–er, stomach–when you’re anxious can be translated across. Remember when I mentioned that my servo tingles when Ratchet uses his saw?” Sarah nods, even though Ironhide isn’t looking at her. “It’s like… a phantom limb, except it’s a limb that was never there in the first place.

“The second type is emotional,” he continues. “You feel everything your bondmate feels. Emotionally.” He shrugs. “Not much of an explanation needed there, I suppose.”

“And Ratchet has an emotional ‘empathy’ towards you while you have a physical one towards him.”

Ironhide nods. “Correct.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for it to be the other way around?”

At that, the mecha chuckles, then winces at the pain the motion causes.

“Probably,” he rumbles in agreement. “But that’s not how bonds work. It’s random. You get what you get and there isn’t anything that can tell you what you’re going to get beforehand.”

“Huh.”

Quiet falls over the backyard, a temporary calm. Ironhide has his helm turned to the west, his optics screwed against the light of the setting sun that’s escaping through the trees. Sarah looks up at him in a mixture of concern and wonder.

There’s so much they don’t know about Cybertronians. So much for humanity to learn.

And she’s quite possibly witnessing more than she ever wanted to.

“Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah doesn’t answer for a few moments, then sighs. She hugs herself, rubbing her upper arms. “You and Ratchet both need to stop thanking me. I’m not _doing_ anything.”

“You’re doing more than you realize.” Ironhide is still concentrated on the sunset, seemingly intent on watching burning circle fall below the horizon, but his voice is warm, earnest, and absolutely, utterly exhausted. Sarah shakes her head but doesn’t reply to his statement. Instead she lets her arms drop and she takes a few quick steps towards the house.

“I’ll be right back,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m going to check on Annabelle and get changed into something warmer.” She’s on the porch before Ironhide can ask her why, and she does as she said she would quickly. After making sure Annabelle’s still asleep she slips the baby monitor from her bedside into the pocket of her sweatshirt and grabs a couple of the extra blankets from the hall closet. Downstairs, she grabs the rarely-used oil lantern and some matches from the kitchen and a book from the living room.

When she comes back out of the house, Ironhide stares at her with his helm tilted in obvious befuddlement.

“What are you doing?”

“Something tells me I’m not going to be getting very much sleep tonight,” she replies, dropping her load onto the grass near Ironhide. “I might as well make the most of it. Besides, I don’t really want you to be alone right now. Not with all this.” The mecha watches quietly as Sarah sets herself up on the ground, laying out one of the blankets and lighting the lantern. The sun is fully gone now, painting the sky in purples, grays, and blues, and soon night will fall completely. The April nights are still rather chilly, but even just sitting this close to Ironhide should keep her warm. The mecha is radiating heat in waves.

Sarah has her mind made up.

She’ll stay out all night with Ironhide if she has to.

When Ironhide speaks, it’s so quiet that Sarah almost doesn’t catch it.

“I don’t really want to be alone, either.”

Sarah looks up at Ironhide, and for the first time this night she thinks she sees fear in his optics.

“That’s what I’m here for.”


End file.
